


The Heir of the Met

by Egyptian_Glassheart



Category: Babylon (TV)
Genre: Career called into question, Developing Relationship, F/M, Secret Relationship, Sorry Not Sorry, The Communications Department has a new heir, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-12 03:05:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4463099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Egyptian_Glassheart/pseuds/Egyptian_Glassheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because every ship needs at least one accidental pregnancy fic.<br/>Let chaos ensue . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Realisation sets in, decisions are sort-of made

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sharkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkie/gifts).



> I know it's a cliche but it's a guilty pleasure. Anyway, who wouldn't want to see how Liz and Finn handle being parents (they're always at war over their department)? It would be interesting to see what kind of approach they will have to this, will they overcome their constant need to best each other, or will their work competitiveness overspill into domestic life? 
> 
> Can Finn do "domestic"?

  _I'm late_.

Liz bit her lip.

She replayed images of needy passion, steaming kisses, hands running along her flushed skin causing goose pimples. Those were all carefully planned moments with cautious protection. Then she recalled that one time in the office when they just completely gave themselves to each other, regardless of anyone seeing them; the "moment" was more important than anything else.

Ah. That was the culprit. 

When it dawned on her, Liz avoided him despite them working on the same floor and being only a few strides away from each other. She pulled away from his probes for illicit affection, earning puzzlement and a twinge of hurt - a look reserved for her eyes only. He was steel in front of everyone else. She wasn't doing it to be cruel; she needed to think.  

It terrified her that he might glimpse her manic charges to the toilets. That he might examine her face long enough to trace a green tinge. That he might be the one who holds onto her when she's woozy.

Professionally, he waited until the end of the day when the department had cleared out. He shuffled awkwardly to her low-lit office, hovering until she noticed his presence. Even then she didn't bestow him with attention.

'Have I,' he began with a mumble, scratching the back of his head, 'done something to upset you? You seem a bit . . . detached.'

'No,' she responded airily. 'I'm fine.'

Internet memes had confirmed to him that when a woman said she was " _fine_ ", nine times out of ten she wasn't.

'I'm just tired,' she added.

Again, he knew that was a ruse to try and throw him off the scent of the real reason.  
'In fact, I was going to come to your office to tell you that I won't be able to do anything with you tonight.'

'Oh,' Finn masked the disappointment in his voice extremely well. 'Ok, I'll walk you home then.'

'That's alright,' she responded quickly. 'I'm going to get a cab.'

Finn looked as if he wanted to ask her what the matter - the _real_ matter was, but chose to ignore it. Liz only released a sigh of relief when he was out of sight completely. Now she felt downright awful.

Once she had left the office and its looming shadows, she rushed to the nearest supermarket, clasped at any and all varieties of pregnancy tests and buried them at the bottom of her basket; imagine the furore if the media caught a whiff (or even a picture) of the Met's Head of Communications hoarding them in a panic. The Met was still in the recovery process of the swift blow of Richard's scandals.

In futile hope Liz prayed that each successive test would provide her with the longed for sad face or red minus sign. On the contrary, every test presented her with the happy faces of doom. Not that she equated babies with doom (she wasn't that morally-questionable), but the pristine and in-control Head of Communications being a single mother left her vulnerable as press fodder. Especially pregnant by her colleague, her underling. 

To put it simply: she wasn't sure she was ready for motherhood just yet. 

Now that it was established that she was definitely with child (since there were no more tests to be consumed in her desperation), Liz finally allowed the truth to establish itself in her awareness. What was disallowing her embryo maternal warmth and geniality, was the multitude of "what ifs" darting around her brain.

 _Will my career survive this? Will I be able to multi-task, or sacrifice my child to the Hall of Messed-Up Children?_ _How do I tell Charles and how will he react? The rest of the department? Mia? My parents? How will Finn digest the news? Will he run a mile from me? Will he be as bad as Ross Geller was in_ Friends _upon finding out the same news? Oh my God, he will be so repulsed by being tied to me forever._

Of course, throughout all of this Liz hadn't even considered abortion. It wasn't something she ever wanted to pursue unless she were absolutely desperate.

So it was decided: she was going to be a mother.   

 

To a Kirkwood baby, at that.


	2. Governed by fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn starts to grow worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's quite difficult to keep Finn in character while giving him feels for Liz, so I hope I was able to accomplish a balance of his character traits and new ones in light of the environment of a relationship.

The next hurdle after the initial confirmation, was the telling of the news to the potentially horrified-to-be father. The anxiety, in Liz's mind, doubled the severity of her morning sickness. Every time she attempted to blurt it out she was rendered speechless. Finn viewed her as if she were losing her mind.

'You look like a fucking goldfish,' he informed her, 'goldfishes are naturally viewed as the intelligence-lacking species . . . unless you're trying to tell me that you paid someone to do your degree for you. I can imagine the headline now: Head of Comms a Fraud, Deputy promoted to Chief. It just writes itself really.'

Finn's humorous expression faded into a quizzical one when he failed to spot even a rolling of the eyes.

He spends the rest of the day hanging around the department, eying her whenever he can - covertly of course.

'Has Liz spoken to you at all today . . .?' he approached Mia, trying as hard as ever to sound like he was striking up pointless conversation.

'Well, yes,' Mia replied helplessly, 'otherwise I'm not really getting any orders from my boss, am I?'

'I mean general, non-work chit-chat,' he clarified irritably.

'Actually, she's been a bit distant lately.'

Ah, so it wasn't just him. _Find out what's wrong with her then_ , Finn urged her.  
'Are you going to find out why?'  
'I don't want to ask, it's probably something that will pass.'

'Do you think it is friend trouble? Parents? Work-related stress? . . . relationship struggles?'  
'I honestly don't know.'

_Maybe she was on the verge of breaking up with him. Maybe there was someone waiting eagerly in the wings. That cokehead, scumbag ex of hers. Facebook picture guy. Tom. Richard's ghost._

He loathed how a relationship with a woman had reduced him into a simpering puppy. He disliked how Liz's ethereally-expressive blue wonders of eyes loosened the superbly tight grip he had on his life. Finn really fought against the truth that he was attached to her. His demeanour whenever she entered the space he occupied may have appeared stoical, but he melted internally. Any memory of him attempting to oust her from her role was forgotten whenever she accompanied a joke with grin, or a beam when she was in a really good mood.

And when they had collapsed after their lustful exertions, he would envelope her with his muscular arms and watch her drift off, gazing at her, and wondering with rapid angst that he viewed these moments as more than just shagging. His heart pounded at the thought of her face curling in disgust when he revealed his growing feelings for her. She would get bored and move on, leaving him in an even bigger mess of self-loathing and darkness. He was all but about to relent himself to the Lord of the Underworld until an annoying ray of Little-Miss-Sunshine breezed into his life (and stole his number one aspiration).

There was only one way to overcome this- the only way he knew how.

He didn't bother her at the end of the working day. He waited until she was halfway on her journey home. When he had timed her arrival home, he turned up at her apartment. Liz, in an unprovoked moment of fear, provided him with the access code to get into the building "should anything happen" to her. Well, this counted as an emergency.

She didn't have time to be stunned when she opened the door to his face. He closed the gap between them, lurching into her apartment. Framing her face with both of his hands, Finn smacked his lips on hers; the more he coaxed her lips to open, the more he felt her relaxing and eventually returning the sentiment.

When they finally came up for air, Liz was dizzy with pleasure. He nibbled on her earlobe.

Finn whispered huskily in her ear 'I'm all yours, Queen Elizabeth,' and she felt a spike of desire. Liz was about to reply with something equally exciting when Finn scooped her up and over his shoulder, earning a squeak from her.  

He strode towards her bedroom, and sensing how this was going to play out Liz spoke up "Be gentle." It wasn't quite an admission of pregnancy, just enough to protect the little one from an oncoming storm. Now really wasn't the time to tell him, so she'd tell him when she would be able to tell him. When she had the courage.

So instead of slamming her onto the bed, he laid her down as per her command. Clothes were shed and flesh was pressed. Finn's expression was dark as he climbed over her in a predatory fashion. Liz always liked the way his athletic body covered hers; he was almost twice her size. She shuddered at the thought. She opened her legs wide, instinctively, surrendering to his pulsing masculine energy.

Finn located an earlier mark of ownership in the crook of her neck and kissed it softly. Liz sighed dreamily as they fused, relishing the feeling of him being inside her. Finn's panting grew louder and more desperate. Liz clung to him as their pace increased. Finn threaded a spare hand through her golden locks, appreciating the way he was absorbing her femininity through his fingertips.

In this session of bliss, Liz lost all of her worries. She relaxed, snuggling up to him after he collapsed beside her. Then it dawned on her that she had made the situation even more complicated.

Finn was equally relaxed, feeling the day's building anxiety deflate when he cradled her warm body. In his mind his plan had worked. Literally thinking with his penis. Of course, that didn't completely prevent him from casting a look that conveyed a search for reassurance. Sure, Liz was far from disgusted- pleased even; nevertheless her angelic face told him nothing of his position in her life being secure. He tightened his grip on her.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if this chapter reads hasty, as I'm trying to keep this fic short and sweet. Plus, I've written this chapter late at night, therefore I will come back to clean up and correct any mistakes.


	3. Truth wants out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Liz...

Finn was rather pleased that things seemed back to normal. Liz still appeared to be spaced every now or then, or anxious about something, however she was less rigid in their stolen moments.

Liz was secretly relieved that he was thrown of course for the time being; his suspicions of something being wrong with her put her on edge. She just needed to buy some time. Unfortunately, her pregnancy had other ideas.

 

Charles summoned Liz and Finn to the car park; they were to conduct a PR face-saving mission, a prototype for a documentary series that Liz was pushing for, and Charles needed Liz's approachability and Finn to shield him from Liz. If only he knew.

Liz awkwardly tried to push for the window seat, bristling when Finn questioned why.

'Why must you question my motives?' Liz hissed, 'I asked for the window seat, not a raise.'

Finn scowled. 'I'm only asking a valid question as to _why_ you'd change the status quo. No need to be snippy.'

'What: the status quo of "the little woman goes in the middle because she's a delicate flower, and you're big strong men who need space for your junk to breathe?" Sometimes you just need to do what a person requests without seeking the "why".'  

Of course, Liz's voice lowered when alluding to his and Charles' genitals: it would be suicidal not to.

'I don't have all day,' Charles announced impatiently before sliding into the Range Rover.

Liz whipped around to glare at Finn. 'I will fire you right here, right now if you don't let me get the window seat.'

Finn opened his mouth to protest before realising that they had been in this predicament before, and if he got fired again he wasn't sure if he would have enough dirt on her to be re-hired again (which was code for: "I don't want say goodbye to this relationship").

Relenting with another scowl, Finn muttered obscenities while he entered the car. If it weren't for lo- . . . no he wouldn't say it.

On watching the discomfort of having to close his legs as he was forced to sit in the middle, she mentally cackled.  

Liz seemed perfectly fine along the journey. Then Frank the driver took a few dodgy turns and her stomach started to do exactly that.

_No. Please no. Not now. I promise I'll sacrifice something to the Gods, call my parents more, be nicer to Mia, tell Finn the truth just_ please _wait until we reach the building-_

Uh oh.

'I-' Liz began breathily.

They barely heard her.

'I don't feel good,' she announced, clutching her mouth.

Finn and Charles viewed her strangely.  

Charles addressed her, 'If you're feeling carsick there's no need because we're about to arrive at-'

'-I can't hold it in.'

Liz began to retch.

'Pull over, please,' she begged.    

Charles relented. The driver had to wait for it to be safe for him to pull up to the pavement. As soon as he did, Liz's door swung open without any regard and she fell on her knees beside the nearest drain.

She was too busy emptying out the contents of her evil stomach to notice Finn exit the car and crouch beside her. He planted a hesitantly reassuring hand on her back, slowly progressing in an up and down motion.

'Are you ok? Did you rush breakfast or something?'

_Men are so clueless when it comes to this stuff._

Then it occurred to her that this would be the wrong place and time for him to finally piece together the puzzle. They were literally a few paces from their destination; it would certainly not look good for the Met's Face to be vomiting and arguing with her baby-daddy employee near the people they were trying to convince that everything was fine.

Liz breathed shakily, clutching the pavement edge and willing this to be over.

'Look, er- Finn you stay here and make sure Liz is ok,' Charles told him, 'join us when she's better.'

And with that, the Commissioner was off, mildly peeved yet feeling a semblance of sympathy for his ill colleague.

'Water,' Liz croaked.

'Here,' Finn said, producing his own bottle.

'Saliva.'

'Come on, Liz, we exchange our saliva on a regular basis.'

' _Mine_.'   

'Oh. Right.'

He hoisted her up from her elbow and helped her along their search for the nearest newsagents. Liz enjoyed the cool water cleansing her insides. This was the beginning of a lifetime of a mother's enduring love.

Finn surprised himself at the level of calm he exuded considering his inability to human at times. He waited until the hue of suffering left her cheeks before fishing for information- delicately, of course.

'If you're seriously ill I think we need to take you to the hospital,' he began.

'I'm fine.'

'Well . . . you've been off for a while so something is clearly up with you.'

Liz felt the nausea rising again, only this time the cause wasn't morning sickness.

'Not now, we'll deal with this after work. Right now, Charles needs us.'

 

It was now or wait for the crying baby to pop out.

 

#

 

Liz informed him that she wanted to talk to him "about them" in the privacy of her apartment. Panic and dread washed over Finn, resurfacing the fears he thought he had buried. He forgot all about her vomiting episode and focused on her distant behaviour. Maybe there _was_ someone else.

With every step towards her apartment, the desire to run and never return grew.

_Just do it, Liz. Nice and quick._

When she came face to face with his panicked expression, butterflies in her stomach got high on cocaine and flew at accelerated levels. Now was the only time that she willed vomit of the word variety. Gah! Why wouldn't her mouth co-operate? It was even more difficult than Finn was when she started out, and _that_ was saying something.   

Finn's agitation was steadily growing. Then Liz's unconventionality and creativity came into play.

'Hold on.'

She fished out her laptop, hastily entered her password and searched for a document. For someone who working in _Communications_ she was truly struggling to construct any simple sentences. When it was located she patted the space next to her on the sofa. She sighed, then swivelled the screen around to show him.

'What the _fuck_ am I looking at??'

Because she hadn't been able to muster the courage to tell anyone (even in the age of super career independent mothers, she was still terrified), Liz had gotten carried away with her own thoughts: namely that of what their child will look like.

She had managed to procure a photo of him facing a camera, combined it with her own, and had been produced with the result of "This is what your baby would look like" on some generator website.

'Liz, I always say you're fucking coo-coo without believing you can prove it anymore, and then you go and surprise me.'   

Her hands grabbed fistfuls of her own hair while she groaned.

Semiotics. When words failed: semiotics.

She came back holding a pile of tissues and something else that he couldn't quite make out.

'Bat-shit crazy,' he muttered as he received this bizarre package.

Liz prepared herself to watch himself splutter and then run for the hills. He would then decide that out of the two of them, he had been there the longest, so she had to go, and then plot to remove her as Head of Communications. "La la laaaa I don't know this woman. Or her child. She needs to see a doctor for that delusion."

He unwrapped the tissue and went still.  

'Is this . . . ,' he began.

'Exactly what you see.'

She held her breath as she watched the various expressions playing out on his face. First came confusion, then shock, realisation, and another that she couldn't quite make out.

'You're- we're going to have a . . . baby?'

Liz nodded. 'I intend to go through with this pregnancy, I just thought you should know so you can decide whether or not you want to be in its life.'

Finn suddenly lurched forwards, unable to contain his growing joy. 'I'm actually going to be a father?' he laughed in disbelief.  

'You're actually happy about this?' she questioned.

'Well, I'm 36 now. I assumed with my lack of dating that it wouldn't happen. And then I hated you and suddenly it's back as a possibility.'

He moved to rest a hand over her uterus.  

'Wait. It is mine, right?'

Liz whacked him on the shoulder.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still only semi-sorry.


	4. War and Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz and Finn clashing with a tinge of humour: what else? ;)

The hardest part was over. Well, sort of. There was the issue of breaking the news to the important people (Finn squirmed when Liz enquired after his parents) and the department itself- that could all wait. The more important matter was the twelve-week scan.

'The appointment for Little Blob is booked,' Liz confirmed. 'It'll have to be over our lunch period though- I hope Charles will be ok with us being a little late . . . we'll have to come up with amazing cover stories that Arthur Conan-Doyle would rise from the grave and congratulate us on. '

'I think we should tell him soon,' Finn announced. 'Not only because he's our boss and deserves to know what's going on but because he's also a mate.'

'Your partner in crime,' Liz added, and then chuckled at the partnership of pun and irony.

Finn rolled his eyes.

'I don't feel comfortable with anyone knowing yet,' Liz told him. 'The longer we can keep this to ourselves, the better. I don't want to curse the pregnancy.'

He was about to challenge her, stopping when he realised the direction of her thought process.

'Are you sure we'll have enough time to actually get to the hospital?'

'Actually we're going to see a consultant gynaecologist who's about 13 minutes away from work.'

Finn spluttered. 'We're going private . . . as in _privatisation_?'

'Yes,' Liz answered slowly, 'I'm an American resident in the UK. Oh, and I'm thinking of booking the Portland Hospital for my labour; labour will be much more relaxing that way.'

'But surely you paid the surcharge when you went through immigration?'

'I thought that was just insurance so that I didn't suck the NHS dry as an immigrant.'

'Liz, the surcharge means you are perfectly valid in using the National Health Service. You're a working resident who pre-paid. If you go private you'll have these leeches think there's a demand for them.'

'But surely my electing not to use them would release the strain its under? Also: what happened to " _we need to appear flexible"_?'

'That's an entirely different matter. That's about people having jobs to go to, public service.'

'These people have bills to pay too.'   

Finn sighed and grit his teeth. _Let Queen Elizabeth have her comfort, I don't want Little Blob to feel stress for no reason_.

 

#

 

The reluctant peace treaty didn't last long. The evening before the scan. to be exact.

'The baby's going to have my surname, right?'

'I was thinking Little Blob should have Garvey-Kirkwood as its surname,' Liz responded.

'Oh God, not a double barrel surname,' Finn complained, 'the kid will be lumbered with a double barrel surname for life. It's not like _those_ are unique anymore. - why Garvey-Kirkwood?' 

'Well, we're not married - no, that's not a suggestion- and I was quite prepared to go at this pregnancy alone. Plus: it just sounds more elegant.'

Finn had to wring his tie in an effort not to wave his arms like a banshee.

'It's not my fault you were too chicken to tell me, so that argument is redundant. Secondly, what's wrong with Kirkwood being at the front? There's nothing wrong with Kirkwood going first. The Father's name. Thirdly, my child is not having a double barrel surname!'

'Ok, "Father's for Justice",' and when Finn glowered Liz quickly replied, 'kidding.'

Liz waited for him to cool before trying again. 'Does that mean that we're going with just Garvey?'

It was just too tempting for her not to ask, even if she was being half-serious.

'It's a good thing we're going for that ultrasound scan tomorrow,' Finn said eventually, after a period of time to restrain himself, 'because we can look for hints that the baby is half evil.'

'Is that your half?' Liz suggested with an amused expression.

'The supposedly "elegant" bloodline of Garvey has a lot to answer for, yourself as an example. You seem to snare people in quite easily; look at me, I've been suckered in against my will.'

'I think you've got your wires crossed, Finn. You're the poster boy of working for Satan - the Dark Lord of the Media who controls the Met's Communications department with his dark gifts. The mastermind of public relations. If the baby is half evil, it's most likely from the Kirkwood side. Oh my God, it's just like "Rosemary's Baby".'

'You're nuts, Liz.'

'I'd gladly take that over making the child half pure evil.'

As if Liz weren't in a trolling mood already, she located an apt song for the situation on Youtube.

" . . . _18 years- "_

Oh, fuck.

" _18 years. She got one of your kids, got you for 18 years. I know somebody paying child support for one of his kids. His baby mamma car and crib is bigger than his_ ".  

Finn left the room.

 

It took him a while to remember that she actually earned much more than he did, therefore _he_ could technically take the role of "Gold Digger". Maybe he should marry her.    

 

#

 

Liz wore as many tight-fitting clothes as she could, given that she would start to show soon. The slimmest pencil skirts, shirts that accentuated her lithe torso. Liz smiled to herself when she caught Finn admiring her appearance that morning. Secretly, of course; he didn't want to give her the satisfaction after the disagreements of the previous evening.

She walked into the building with confidence and exuberance, enjoying the glow the pregnancy was bestowing on her now that the morning sickness was dying down. Plus, she was utterly excited that she was going to see the baby.

'Someone's in a good mood,' Mia commented upon Liz's arrival. 'You look like someone who got some action last night.'

Liz literally had to halt her mouth opening and announcing her ultrasound scan. What a close call.

Fortunately for them, Charles was inundated with work and personal problems so he waved his hand in approval of their potential late lunch arrival. Liz felt her excuse of a doctor's appointment completely unoriginal and badgered Finn to tell her his one.

'The Dark Lord Finn Kirkwood will be utilising his crude methods to carry out his master's wishes.'

'What?' Liz asked with a frown.

'Charles is ok with me being late because he wants me to meet with some members of the press.'

'Why didn't he tell me this?' she demanded. 'He maybe my boss, but _I'm_ yours.'

'Well, maybe as your boss he thought he didn't need to fill you in on everything.'

Liz stopped their journey to the tube station. 'Should I be worried that Charles is your secret lover and waiting for you to elbow me so that you can both run off into the sunset holding hands? I'm walking incubator . . .'

'Yes, because that doesn't make our friendship at all awkward, now,' Finn remarked sarcastically.

'You should have told me- _he_ should have told me: I run the department in his interest.'

Shaking her head, Liz resumed, upgrading her regular speed into long, angry strides. As they arrived at the platform for the District Line, Liz went out of her way to ignore Finn and his inability to salvage the situation. Some people on the platform spectated their rift with interest, others bewilderment.

 So much for finally attaining some sort of respect or recognition from her co-workers. In this trio of decision makers she was the weaker link, just the face, handed seemingly important tasks while they did the gritty work.

And to think she was on a high this morning, feeling impenetrable as she arrived at a job she was beginning to love and anticipating seeing her child for the first time. Well. Liz and Little Blob were going to team up and use the hormones to get them both back; they had better build a bomb shelter.

 

The clinic was as expected: clean, comfortable, professional. Perhaps a metaphor for how Liz tried to portray herself in public relations? Liz found the sweets in the waiting room without hesitation. Finn sat beside her (despite sensing her wish that he would keep away from her), chewing whilst he scrolled through his inbox page. His lack of repulsion at being in a private clinic surprised her.

'Lyndsey will see you now.'

They stood up, hearts pounding with anticipation. They were welcomed warmly, invited to take a seat and asked if they wanted a drink. Liz declined: she just wanted to see Little Blob.

The minute she heard the first heartbeat, she almost leapt from the examination table. She turned to Finn, expecting him to have half his attention trained on his phone. It wasn't. His eyes were locked on the screen, absorbing every line and shadow of detail. There it was. Curled up, with a tail.     

Liz had to restrain herself from screaming "AWWWWW." (That kind of "aw" was only acceptable on Tumblr).

'Everything's ok, right?' she enquired eventually. 'I mean, it's healthy?'

'I can't see any abnormalities or any bad signs.'

Liz turned her eyes to Finn's. He wasn't brimming with happiness as she was, however she scanned his eyes and detected hope and wonderment.

'Do you want to know the sex of the baby?'

Liz shook her head. 'But you can tell the Father, if he wants to know.'

'I want it to be a surprise as well,' he replied.

'That's the first time we've come to the same conclusion without some coercion,' she pointed out.

He didn't roll his eyes or sigh. He didn't lock himself up with folded arms or scoff. He returned his attention back to the screen, realisation dawning that this was actually real.

Liz experienced similar sentiments. She wondered if her life was real. Graduated from Business School and working for Instagram all in the space of three years, working for the Metropolitan Police by 25 and pushing 26 when pregnant. It seemed that the warnings of her dreams taking a while to be achieved were not applicable to her.

Little Blob was her dream now.

 

And now she wanted cake. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies about using Kanye West's "Gold Digger", but the thought popped in my head and then wouldn't leave me alone. I'm not gonna put a disclaimer because there's no way I could imagine hilarious lyrics such as that :P


End file.
